


Of Ghosts

by Aly_H



Series: Sparks & Spies [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Rite of Tranquility concept borrowed from DA, Sith Empire Loses the War, a one-shot that got away from me, alternative universe, empty shell trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-11 14:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: The war with the Sith Empire officially ends when Darth Nox, the lone surviving Dark Councilor, surrenders to the Republic on Korriban. The Republic has taken extreme measures to insure that a number of powerful Sith that were captured during the war never become threats to the galaxy again.---Expansion of the one-shot "Of Ghosts" that was originally published in my collection "The Stars May Burn" in order to give it a happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After writing the first part of "Of Ghosts" I decided (and then was urged to) continue it. So far it's looking like it'll be 3-4 chapters.
> 
> If anything needs to be tagged as warnings please let me know and I will add them.

“…The side effects are considerable, but acceptable, given the risk posed by these individuals. The disasters at Belsavis and Oricon proved that leaving these individuals intact while in Republic custody was a terrible idea. Even with the Empire defeated…”

Truthfully Theron hadn’t been paying very close attention to what the science drone was saying as he trailed behind the Supreme Commander. He wasn’t sure _why_ he had been called to this meeting – although given the dark expression that the Barsen’thor had he probably should be paying closer attention. That was Valirek’s ‘who thought planet-killing superweapons were a good idea?!’ expression.

“Please tell me this is entirely theoretical, Supreme Commander,” the Jedi’s voice lacked any warmth – a tone typically reserved for Moffs that bombarded civilian population centers or Sith that unleashed similar atrocities. “To go through with such a plan would be barbaric, whether used on the Sith or not. Such methods are below the Republic.”

The scarred Commander frowned at the Jedi, “Master Jedi, your Order let the Sith Empire return once before, we will not take that risk again. The directive has already been utilized against a number of high-value, high-danger targets with considerable success.”

They turned another corner and were admitted into a cell block.

This one was set up mostly for medical care and surveillance. The prisoners subjected to this new program evidently not a risk of escape. Theron did a quick count – about ten cells…that many powerful Sith at close quarters and even non-force sensitives _should_ be feeling the almost overwhelming pressure that dark side wielders could exert on their surroundings.

There wasn’t anything except the on-edge feeling that extremely sterile, hospital-like environments gave off all on their own. Crisp and white, well-lit it looked more like an asylum than a prison.

“We believe that the subjects may be able to live as productive members of society, if provided the necessary care to account for their condition. Subject Three, for example would make an excellent addition to an archival staff given his extensive historical knowledge.”

The droning science officer had stopped in front of one of the cells to open it.

The interior was just as pristine as the exterior. Small, mostly comfortable cell.

The prisoner was dressed in a dull grey-white prison uniform, and sat perfectly still on the bed, not in a meditation pose but upright, his back slightly slouched, his eyes on the floor.

Theron stepped forward without even realizing what he was doing, shock sending a cold emptiness through his gut:

The most powerful of the surviving Imperial Sith…the one that had always been almost no danger to Republic interests as Sith politicking had kept him too busy to care about the Republic. The Sith who had gone from slave to Dark Councilor and then galactic hero following his defeat of Revan on Yavin…

Darth Nox.

The man he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with – the one that wasn’t supposed to love him but had anyways.

“Tusin?” it took him a moment to realize the name had come from his lips, as he knelt in front of the Sith Lord.

In the past there’d always been a smile, even when he was being scolded for his behavior by Darth Marr he’d spared Theron a smile. His bright golden eyes usually lively and intelligent now looked at him with an empty sort of recognition.

The Sith had always held himself statue still when not occupied with a task, perfectly rigid unless he was making an effort to appear relaxed. Behavioral hallmarks left over from his early life, Theron had figured, but the lack of movement now was different.

“Theron Shan,” the dull voice held none of the playful fondness that had colored the way that the Sith had said his name in the past. “I remember you.”

Theron had been tortured before, but he couldn’t remember anything that hurt as much as the ache in his chest right now. Hot tears pricked at his eyes as he touched one of his sharp cheek bones, tracing his thumb over the barely perceptible ridging there – it was less prominent than in some Sith but there to the touch.

“Theron? _Son_ ,” Jace’s voice and a hand clamping on his shoulder startled him out of his stunned reaction.

He jerked away from his father, anger flaring up. “You did this! He _surrendered_ , he trusted the Republic to be _better_ than the Sith and _this_ is what that gets him. How could you?!”

Jace frowned, “He was the enemy, Theron. The Jedi said that there was no hope of redeeming these prisoners. They were too dangerous to lea-“

The only reason the punch didn’t connect was because a gentle force push shoved the two apart.

“Commander,” the Barsen’thor’s silver-gray eyes held an emotion strangely close to anger, and he spoke with a tone of finality that confirmed the Jedi’s boundless patience had run itself thin. “Please leave us for now. I will talk to Theron, but it would be best if you were not here for now…”

Yellow eyes had passed between all those who entered the cell, but no further reaction was offered even in his non-vocals.

Jace and the science officer withdrew, though he saw his father hesitate – wearing the familiar uncertain look he got when it came to how to handle his son.

 “Val,” Theron looked to the Jedi, hoping he wasn’t going to get a lecture about controlling his emotions. The silver haired healer was in many regards one of the few Jedi he’d known to strictly adhere to the code successfully.

“No lectures,” the healer promised, turning his eyes to Tusin. It was sometimes difficult to read the expressions this particular Jedi wore, he didn’t emote strongly, but for once it was clear there was sorrow written there.

“…is he in pain like this?” Theron asked anger dying into a twisted sick feeling in his chest. “Is there a way to fix this?” If anyone knew how to mend something through the force it’d be this Jedi, wouldn’t it?

“I think he is but he can’t feel it,” the Jedi answered at last. “As to healing what has been done…we will find a way, Theron.”

Theron turned his gaze onto the soulless Sith Pureblood that had been Tusin Shade.

The gold eyes met his, “I remember, before everything went silent. I was sad that I would never buy you that drink. I think that I might have loved you before, Theron Shan.”

Another knife sank into his heart and twisted, dully the agent agreed: “Yeah….yeah, you might’ve.”

Once he’d chosen the Republic over this man, let him walk away back to the games of Sith politics and the hopeless push for peace. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.


	2. Chapter 2

A cup of caff appeared on his desk in front of him, making him blink for a moment before looking up at the deliverer with open suspicion. It wasn’t even as if it weren’t deserved either.

Aydin Olasee was a Mirialan analyst with the SIS now. Once though he’d been Cipher Nine, one of the Empire’s most successful field agents. The official story was he’d switched sides during the end part of the war when rather than permit the use of catastrophic fail-safes by the Empire he coordinated with the Jedi to disable and destroy them.

“Dak’s the only one that gets kisses with his caff,” the clipped Imperial accent was a fake but as it annoyed people in Coruscant Aydin happily continued to use it as much for his own amusement as habit. “And you’re not quite as bad as Val about sleeping so I’ll hold off slipping any sedatives into it for at least another week to make you sleep properly.”

“You sure you should admit to drugging a member of the Jedi Council?”

“Probably not, but let’s be honest – the SIS is way more concerned about my sleeping with the Battlemaster than when I use underhanded Cipher tricks to make sure the Barsen’thor sleeps properly,” he pointed out.

Theron was inclined to believe the apartment shared by the three men was one of the more unusual living arrangements in the Republic.

Still caff was a blessing right now so he drank it as Aydin wandered away, probably to annoy someone else rather than do his work. As his head began to swim he realized something was wrong – _he said he wasn’t drugging it to make me sleep properly, not that he wasn’t drugging it. Kriffing Imperial._

When consciousness returned there was the hum of a starship’s engines.

A dull murmur of voices drew him to his feet and out of the bunk to the main room. Dak Izma, the Hero of Tython, lifted a hand to wave at him with a smile. He was lounging on the seats along the edge of the room.

Valirek Silver had his back to the door, and was speaking to a man in Mandalorian style armor on the Holo.

“You’re up, that’s good,” Aydin Olasee grinned as he threw an arm around Theron’s shoulders.

The former agent had switched out of the Republic uniform for a battered red-and-black long coat, a brown leather vest which looked suspiciously like it had anti-blaster material woven into it and white shirt. Red pants and a pair of brown boots finished the look. A blaster on his hip, one of those blaster-rifles customized to thoroughly rip through anything or anyone that the nastier flavor of Imperial Intelligence operatives favored, and a number of other weapons tucked away and hidden on his body. Possessing any of those items separately would have invalidated his pardon with the Republic…

“You drugged me.”

“Well, yes, but I also sliced in a report that said you got word on Rishi from a contact you needed to check out. You’re not missing or anything.”

“There actually anything on Rishi?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind that he really needed at least _one_ ‘work friend’ that hesitated about getting him kidnapped. Although Lana and Balkar hadn’t done the kidnapping themselves, and he wasn’t sure if that counted for or against them.

“Red’s checking out rumors that there’s a Moff looking to bolster what remains of his fleet with pirate mercenaries,” the Mirialan shrugged. “She’ll send you the report once it’s done and you can give it to your bosses.”

“Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “Why am I being kidnapped by Jedi?”

“Because the Mandalorians have the prison break, and Lana is getting things ready for us on Korriban.”

The pieces clicked into place – so this was _it_. Apparently when Master Silver promised to get something done he didn’t do it in half-measures. “He found a way?”

“Yeah, though if I were Val I’d be stressing how it’s possible that it won’t work at all, and it will only succeed if it’s the will of the Force, so on, so forth, et cetera, et cetera,” he waved his hands in a dismissive manner.

Feeling more nervous than he had when he’d realized someone had kidnapped him he decided to focus on anything else, “Shouldn’t you be more serious about the Force stuff? Aren’t you _dating_ a Jedi?”

“You ever hear Dak use a Jedi platitude when he’s not being annoying at the sabacc table and I’ll kiss a Hutt,” the Mirialan promised before sauntering over to his Jedi to pester instead.

Valirek must’ve finished his holocall with the other team because the Mandalorian was gone and the silver eyed Jedi was watching him. “I suppose there is little point in actually saying what goes into the ‘et cetera, et cetera’ part of that lecture.”

“Any chances that you know how likely that part will be relevant?”

“…the chances this will succeed are slight, Theron,” the Jedi crossed his arms, his fingers tapping his elbow as he thought. “That’s assuming that everyone necessary makes it to where we’re going in one piece.”

“So how’s a dead woman supposed to help us? _Your_ report was that you killed Lana Beniko in a duel.”

“Was that what my report said, or was that how it was interpreted?” the Jedi asked. “You of all people should know that there are ways to mislead without lying.”

“I’m guessing you and Aydin get along _real_ well, huh?” he sighed. With as busy as things had been at the conclusion of the war, no one would’ve taken the time to double check a Jedi with Val’s reputation. Even when things were calm they weren’t likely to double check that sort of thing, or confirm what they assumed a Jedi meant was actually what the Jedi meant.

“Not nearly as well as he and Dak do, I assure you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, not much action going on in this chapter, but tis important for the next one. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

“Master Silver says that they will be arriving within the hour,” the blond Sith commented as she came to stand beside Theron who was eying the red-stained valley below.

Korriban was unsettling for non-Sith already – was in some ways unsettling for _Sith_ – but Theron had had his thoughts occupied by his own problems even before the Jedi’s vessel had set down on the desert world two days before.

The spy nodded, his jaw clenching a little with his nerves. “…did he say anything after Yavin?”

“No, but he didn’t need to for it to be obvious that he loved you,” Lana clasped her hands behind her back as she did when she thought.

She considered the other Sith Lord in silence…she couldn’t claim she had many friends – the Empire wasn’t that sort of place – but Nox had been one of the few she trusted implicitly, and whose trust she knew she had earned. Although she could’ve done without him earning them Ravage’s ire with his whispered jokes during the Council meetings. (She suspected her impression on the older members of the Council might have been better if her seat as Minister of Intelligence hadn’t been next to Nox’s.)

“He doesn’t drink spirits often, you know-” she spared a wince at the phrasing, she could practically hear the Pureblood’s voice interrupting about how he ate them instead: “-but he dragged me along when we returned to the Empire to find a bottle of whisky, something nice. I thought it strange, he bought a very expensive, high quality alcohol and then immediately had it stored in his vault. He claimed he didn’t need it for another six years but he needed to know it was there.”

She studied Theron’s expression – knowing that its stillness was because he was drawing on his early Jedi lessons to try and sort through the information. “He _did_ miss you, Theron, but Yavin was never the end for him. He loves you. That will give him the strength he needs for this.”

“Why are so many people needed for this ritual?” Theron asked.

“Dak and Aydin aren’t. They’re here to protect us from the wildlife and anything the ritual stirs up. Captain Fyre and her husband are strictly extraction and transport for Tusin, we needed someone we could trust. Your presence isn’t necessary but will probably help provide a focus.”

A Corellian XS-stock light freighter was coming in for a landing – the ship familiar enough to both of them they recognized it even before the bright green Blurrg in a top hat painted on the ship’s belly became visible.

The _Enterprising Blurrg_ belonged to the last member of the team that had originally gotten tangled up in the Revanite mess. The smuggler Captain Claribel Fyre, she’d been brought in to fly the original Korriban strike team and when things didn’t add up she and Val were the ones Theron had reached out to.

It didn’t take long for the smuggler to show up down the ramp, leading Tusin down by the hand, concern showing on her face. They’d gotten Tusin changed from the prison uniform, so he was wearing simple black robes with the hood down – the sort that he’d worn for as long as any of them had known him. It made him look more Sith again, but the blank expression and the lack of personality still stood out.

The Mandalorian warrior from the holocall the first time he’d woken stood at the top of the ship’s ramp watching, but not making a move to come down, his helmet still securely in place.

Valirek smiled to them both as he approached, gesturing to where Theron was approaching as he said something to the Pureblood. Tusin’s eyes landed on them both, at least he seemed to recognize them all.

“Keep the credits, Val,” the smuggler was telling the Jedi as Theron and Lana came into earshot. “I paid off Clan Cadera already, but Iz and me aren’t going to take anything for this job. This one’s on me but it’s the last time you get any free flying, got it? Having Jedi friends is too expensive.”

Val smiled, he knew what they all knew – the woman had never been all about profit like she claimed she was. “If you insist, Clari. And thank you.”

“Yeah, well, y’know,” she shrugged – before looking to Theron. “Take care of him, okay, Shan? I’m not sticking around for the Force nonsense, I have a pick up on Ziost. Probably won’t be around Republic space til there’s a new Chancellor after this so _you_ fly safe too.”

“We’ll do our best, Captain,” Theron smiled back. “You and Izar take care too.”

“Do our best,” she smiled before clasping Tusin’s arm, green eyes sad before she turned and headed back to her ship, Aydin trotting over to speak with her and her husband for a few minutes before they were back aboard and taking off.

 Val waited for the _Blurrg_ to be back in the sky before looking to Lana and Theron, “When should we begin this?”

“The sooner the better,” Theron replied, guilt pricking him as he kept his eyes off Tusin. It hurt to see him in this condition.

“Lana?” Valirek asked quietly.

The blond nodded, “I am ready, Master Silver.”

He nodded, “Tusin, will you please come with me?” he asked the Sith, leading him towards the tomb that Dak had been keeping cleared of wildlife for the last few days. He was speaking to the Pureblood, explaining the process behind the ritual they were going to perform and its purpose – giving the Sith a chance to protest if they were wrong and this shell-like version actually did feel any sort of wants.

The Jedi knight was perched on one of the stone slabs outside its entrance, a wide brimmed hat that looked suspiciously like it was from Val’s Rishi pirate disguise on his head to ward off the planet’s intense sun. “Things are clear inside,” he told them, “You want me in there or guarding out here?”

“You and Aydin can remain out here unless you sense something go wrong. If something’s going wrong get Theron out, moving the rest of us will be too dangerous once this begins.”

Dak saluted to them before adding: “May the Force be with you.” It wasn’t until the group was already past him in the mouth of the cave that the knight added in a mutter, “We’ll certainly need it.”

Theron glanced back, wondering if there was something the Force-users weren’t saying, but it wasn’t as if he could push any for answers. Lana would share what she thought was needed, if Valirek wasn’t saying anything then he felt it necessary to keep it secret.

He stayed out of the way as Val and Lana finished arranging the items around the altar. Bits and pieces of items that made no coherent sense at first: A battered shock collar, a light saber, a mask, pieces of a broken holocron… Souvenirs from Nox’s life he realized, recognizing a brightly colored Orobird feather he’d drunkenly braided into Nox’s hair on Rishi the night before his capture by Revan’s supporters.

He remembered the man complaining that the blue-green feather clashed terribly with his skin color, but he’d left it in the whole night. The next morning he’d overheard Lana cautioning the Dark Lord against permitting him too close as the Pureblood and Claribel had prepared to find Torch. Valirek had been given another task in light of Mandalorian’s infamous dispositions towards Jedi.

Theron blinked and shook his head, the faint smile that had come unbidden fading – he couldn’t do anything to help Tusin now, the least he could do was pay attention to the ritual not day dream…

The Sith Pureblood was helped onto the altar, laying in its center so still that Theron might’ve mistaken him for dead if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Valirek and Lana were kneeling in front of it now, both assuming the pose that Force-users were taught when they meditated or were going into a trance. Val reached out first, his hand upturned. Lana took his wrist in one hand and the air in the cavern grew heavier, more dangerous. The hairs on the back of Theron’s neck stood up, and his skin crawled with goosebumps. Sith Sorcery. Old, and dangerous.

In the light of the torches that had suddenly gone dimmer he could see the Jedi grimace but his focus remained unbroken – the touch of the dark side likely physically painful for the Barsen’thor rather than just the edgy discomfort that Theron felt even Force blind.

In the center of the ritual blue-black lights had begun to spark and dance, completely obscuring Tusin’s form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> We have two chapters left in my plan for this story.
> 
> Next we get to actually curing Tusin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at who's being super productive right now. (Okay, I had this mostly written before I finished fighting the last one into shape.)

Gold eyes studied the restraints on his hands with open annoyance. He’d spent too much of his life shackled to pretend to be in a pleasant mood with them on. Especially not when he’d felt the way the Force had twisted and _screamed_ the last two nights.

The technicians referred to him as Subject Three, not Darth Nox or Kallig or Tusin Shade.

Now that he considered it, he really _did_ have more names than any one person had a right to, still “Subject Three” just lacked the flare the others had. Not to mention it grated his patience too like the market’s identification numbers used to keep track of slaves.

He had paced and watched as the two Sith Lords before him had been returned to their cells, docile. Their restraints removed, but there was no fight, no…anything left in their movements. Their presences muted, dull and almost as if the Force around them had been injured. He wondered idly if Master Silver was aware of what happened to the Sith whose lives he had spared on the battle field.

The Pureblood smirked at the soldiers who opened the cell – mostly because even with his Force use suppressed, the red skinned alien _knew_ that he still terrified them. He watched one of the lower ranking ones, judging from their badge, take a step back at that.

His commander shot him a look and barked out the orders for Tusin to comply and follow them.

The Sith considered fighting for a moment - a lucky bolt might destroy the cuffs but he wasn’t a warrior. It was unlikely he’d manage against the fine examples of Republic Armed Forces that had come to collect him long enough for him to be killed or freed. More likely he’d be sedated and if he was about to have his mind ripped away from him he would rather keep it sharp for as long as possible.

Gold eyes took an open interest in his surroundings as he studied the lab he was marched into, forcing his shoulders to relax, studying the mechanism:

A round glass cell, no bindings, then subjected to some kind of energy….a powerful Sith might be able to escape in the time between the cuffs coming off and the energy being turned on but they’d be shot down by the soldiers waiting outside, or the gun turrets mounted on the wall.

There’d be no escaping this alive.

 _Kassie always did say you underestimated the Republic’s_ f _ear, Tusin_ , the Sith thought amused. The Jedi couldn’t know about this project, they certainly wouldn’t be allowing it. This was the army and Saresh.

He’d have a few seconds – not long, but long enough if he focused and got lucky.

_Marr would be calling you foolish and sentimental if he knew what you were planning to do rather than going out in a blaze of death, Nox._

The soldier’s weapons were trained on him, but he waited patiently for the cuffs to come undone before crossing to the center of the cell wordlessly, his easy grin fading away as he knelt – closed his eyes and pulled the Force close around him.

_Deep breaths, ignore the sounds of the machines powering up – focus and let time seem slowed…Now…reach out._

The command to his mind dragged his awareness away just as pain shot through his physical body, the concentration required to do what he was doing became more difficult to maintain. The Pureblood clenched his fists, and used the pain to sharpen his abilities – anger that the Republic would betray itself in such a manner, anger that everything he had ever fought for seemed to have been smashed around him…no, not everything.

 _There_ …

It wasn’t easy to find the Force blind in this manner, but there he was. Same red jacket, a grin on his face as he talked to someone – probably another SIS agent. He wasn’t sure what Theron was doing, but it was enough to see him again, alive and well.

“I guess we won’t be meeting for drinks after all,” he said quietly, though perfectly aware that he couldn’t be heard or seen by the subject of his attention.

The Force was torn violently from his grip and then only a darkness filled with dim shadows (some recognizable, others not) followed.

Then, slowly, the memory of who he was faded – there was still a _he_ in the darkness but who that person was, what mattered to them was lost.

The emotions that had once fed his power far out of reach in the heavy fog-like existence.

The first touch of power brushing against his presence was ignored – unfamiliar in the darkness, in the absence of self - he had grown so used to he drew away from the Force as one did a fire for fear of being burned. Trying to find enough of who he was to gather a response to the prodding was more difficult but he snapped finally.

“Leave me alone!” he spat into the shadows.

Not that the energy cared. Once there was an opening it burrowed into his presence, carrying with it a flood of memories that clung to a ring of objects, each of those memories opening a cascade of new ones. Pain, sorrow, happiness…love…

The feather tickled against the back of his neck, but he sat patiently in the hideout as Theron managed to tangle it into the dark red hair, he’d not thought it long enough but the spy had managed it.

“There, now you look like a proper pirate,” Theron smiled. Tusin had smiled back without thinking about it – intelligent and handsome he’d been interested in the spy soon as he’d seen him on Manaan. That he enjoyed Theron’s company had been a surprise; that Theron seemed to enjoy his a greater one – neither were unpleasant.

Falling in love had been new – he’d used the emotion to manipulate others in the past, had considered doing the same with Theron. He had always held a great deal of fondness for those he took up with since becoming Sith, but this was new to him.

“Come on, you can do this!” Theron’s voice cut through the memories, and he pulled back from the past.

He tried to open his eyes – had to know if Theron was truly there or if it was an echo of a memory - but the unruly tug of his own powers pulled him inwards, once again harnessed to his control by a healing connection to the Force they were wild with a lack of discipline and certain aspects seemed determined to escape his control.

He opened his eyes when he tried this time, the swirl of

Force energy around him beginning to fade as he drew it back around him, weaving it back through his being in neat patterns of control. Carefully untangling Lana’s and Valirek’s presences from it as he recognized them amongst the mess of power.

The torch light brightened as the energies in the cave – were they on Korriban? It smelled like Korriban. – dulled and he sat up, picking up the feather as his hand brushed against it.

He spotted Lana and the Jedi first, they were closer but before he could ask what had happened his eyes landed on Theron – it had been his voice he heard. His beloved spy was crying, that wouldn’t do.

Tusin was up and on his feet – more rapidly than he knew was advised after being subjected to an intense Force ritual.

He wanted to wrap his arms around him and kiss him, but not without permission. Instead he froze, hand partially outstretched to touch him but forced to drop it back down instead.

“Theron Shan,” he smiled to him, voice laden with warm affection. He still wasn’t sure what had happened – or how long it had been since the laboratory.

Whatever had happened had been bad enough that the agent forwent any hesitancy and Tusin was dragged into a hug that was returned. The Sith pulling away only slightly so that he could press a gentle kiss to Theron’s lips as well.

“You’re back, thank the Force,” Theron whispered, leaning his forehead into Tusin’s shoulder, determined not to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always adored!


	5. Epilogue

Theron leaned against the rail, peering out over the city. Pollution filled air, brash neon colored lights, the sound of air traffic and the sporadic firing of blasters in the distance. Not the place he pictured Tusin Shade having a favored safe house.

After Korriban Lana had taken the Sith and taken him into hiding. He wasn’t sure where she was but Tusin had taken up residence quietly in a luxurious apartment on Nar Shaddaa.

Theron had returned to Coruscant with the Jedi, a report compliments Aydin’s mysterious friend ‘Red’ from Rishi – the rumors had panned out but the Moff had ended up shot ‘mysteriously’ in a cantina fight - to file with his bosses to explain his absence.

He wasn’t sure how no one noticed that the former Cipher had been missing. Valirek and Dak both made perfectly straight faces and informed whoever asked that there had been a disturbance in the Force. The Captain, her husband, and a small band of like-minded, free spirited individuals were currently racking up bounties by annoying Saresh’s people in every way they could imagine that didn’t actually harm the Republic. Mostly by snapping up people innocent of any crime besides being born Imperial and shuttling them to places they’d be safe.

Given what Saresh’s people were doing – that the Republic was still under martial law – he was inclined to believe that the band of smugglers, (mostly former) spies, and bounty hunters the Captain had inadvertently started to turn into a rebel group were in the right of it.

He wasn’t sure he could continue with the SIS for long, but where he was it was easier to protect Tusin…

Somewhere behind him, music started. A slow tempo, perfect for dancing.

“You know, I thought I was supposed to be the broody one in this relationship,” Tusin came to lean against the railing beside him, bright eyes dancing as he observed Theron, offering him a glass.

He took a drink before considering it: whisky, with a good flavor, the sort that you had to pay top credit for. Tusin smiled beside him, drinking his own glass.

“Lana told me that after Yavin she helped you pick out a bottle you stored away,” Theron commented, knowing that Tusin wouldn’t pry into his thoughts. “What happened to six years?”

“It was meant for when we were together again, the timing wasn’t so important. At the time six seemed like an important number, but it was always going to be sooner if I could manage it,” the Sith chuckled, leaning over to peck his cheek. “I don’t have nearly enough patience to have waited so long to see you.”

The glasses finished and a new song was playing.

Tusin glanced back and grinned as if the idea had just occurred to him and hadn’t been plotted since he noticed Theron brooding.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, setting the glasses aside on one of the low tables. The protocol droid could collect them later.

“I think you may, Tusin,” he smiled, letting the other draw him away from the railing and take the lead in the dance.

He would worry about the Republic and the galaxy tomorrow, tonight he was going to enjoy being safe and happy in the company of the man he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have reached the end of "Of Ghosts"!
> 
> I hope ya'll enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This story was one of the ones that grabbed on and wouldn't let go.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are adored!


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